


The Coven's Tale

by varsiity



Category: Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: Arson, Italian Mafia, Magic-Users, No Romance, Poisoning, Revenge, The Necronomicon, Undead, Voodoo, Witchcraft, i'm psyched for this update, they're mentioned like once but yEah, this is heavily coven-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 08:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10941180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varsiity/pseuds/varsiity
Summary: Salem didn't trust enough, and they had driven out their fair share of Witches in their time. But in all of their suspicion, they had never truly considered the possibility that one of those Witches, angry and aching for revenge, would find others like her.In all of their paranoia, they had never once imagined what would happen if those Witches joined forces and came back.





	The Coven's Tale

The Coven Leader was the first, the original, the beginner.

Salem did not understand. It had never understood, and things that Salem could not contemplate were usually things that Salem tried its best to eradicate. And it was them that sent her into hiding the first time, all those years ago, with torches and shouted threats of lynching as they drove her into the forest and out of their town.

It was them that changed her, when they formed a mob to hunt her down and burn her at the stake. It was them that forced her to flee the streets of the town that had been her home since she was born. They burned her house to the ground that night, overcome with thoughts of the curses that had to lurk within those harmless walls. She had seen the flames licking the sky even from the depths of the woods.

The witch had always practiced magic, first out in the open when people didn’t fear it as they had grown to. When she had been forced to first hide it, she had done that too, performing her rituals in secrecy and behind deadbolted doors. Her power had grown, over the years, and it would grow still even as she made her home in the woods, fueled by revenge.

Control was easy for her, and maybe that was why the townies feared her like they did. While the Mayor could only attempt to corral them with threats of lynching and the Jailor with promises of execution, all it took was a few words and a spell for her, and then they were like puppets on an enchanted string. Then, she could make them do whatever best fit her agenda. And while she first aligned herself with the townies, she found that agenda changed dramatically when they had driven her out.

First, she had sought the company of the Neutrals. They, too, were ostracized, blamed by the Town for things they were born into and had no say in. But while the occasional Jester appreciated her assistance, the Serial Killers and Arsonists were so volatile, so easy to set off. She had narrowly avoided too many fires and knives and claws for her to truly trust their company. And so the Mafia had been the next logical choice.

They had hardly welcomed her either, and the Godfather bore her presence only grudgingly, but she heard the Consort’s whispers and felt the Mafioso’s distrust. They used her because they needed her vote and her powers, needed reassurance that they would win. But she had never truly belonged among their ranks. She was a sort of warped Consigliere, to them, with powers they both envied and feared.

But this was not enough for her.

She could not find happiness in their company, in the cigarette smoke or the gutter talk. She could not find a sense of belonging in that of a Werewolf or a Survivor, either, because they were too apt to turn upon anyone they thought was an enemy. But she would find others, in time. She would use the company of those who tolerated her to ensure her own survival. She would turn the Mafia’s strategy against it. One day, she would escape.

And finally, one day, she did.

She found another like her, in a small town called Reading that she passed through with the Mafia she had taken up residency with. Another witch, this one tall and lean, with slender brown eyes and dark hair that swept over his forehead. And for all her knowledge, all her experience, the other witch’s skill with potions was years more advanced than that of the Coven Leader. 

After that round, the Mafia moved on, but she and the Potion Master continued upon a different path.

The days passed more quickly with company, and she didn’t know how many more games it had been when she befriended another. This one nursed a bitter grudge against the town that perhaps went deeper than that of even the Coven Leader. This one, a short, chubby woman with blond curls, had dreamed of becoming a Retributionist, of using her gift for good. But somewhere along the way, her magic had rebelled. It had went wrong, horribly wrong, although the woman would never say in what way; she had fled in shame, leaving the town behind, ravaged by an undead creature she had mistakenly created. This woman did not open up easily, but the Coven Leader had befriended her. This woman was a Necromancer.

With the help of a group of Vampires, the Coven Leader and the two others had won the round and continued on.

They had met more witches along the way. Among them was a brown-skinned witch with short, wavy hair and an infectious smile, who could mix the right ingredients to poison anyone and leave no trace behind. They had found a Hex Master in a seaside village, with messy black hair and spellcasting abilities unmatched by any other they had encountered. And finally, in a mountainous cave, they had found a man with a gaze that turned anyone but witches to solid stone if they visited him after dark had fallen.

This was where she belonged.

They had made their own faction, somehow, and from the first game they had entered as a Coven, the word had spread. Witches, the townies whispered, witches in Salem! Witches with powers not of this Earth! Witches who wish to kill us all! 

She heard their whispers and laughed. 

The Coven Leader had nursed a grudge for years, burying it inside herself in order to become more convincing, more trustworthy to the town. But it showed, sometimes, on the nights when the Coven obtained an ancient book of magic known as the Necronomicon and the Coven Leader used its power to drain the life out of the townies who had displeased her so many years ago. It showed, when the Coven emerged victorious from yet another round, or when they encountered another traveling group of witches, their natural allies in a world that despised them for their roles. And while the Mafia and Neutrals had tolerated her presence in their midst, she would not do the same for them. She would not be so quietly merciful that she would permit a victory to slip by - that she would sacrifice a single member of her group in order to let one Arsonist go on living. 

And if necessary, the lives of the Hex Master and Poisoner, the Potion Master and Medusa and Necromancer, would come before her own. She was their leader; she was the original, the first, the beginner. And sometimes, leadership meant giving herself up for the good of the Coven.

The survival of the Coven would come first.

The survival of the Coven would always come first.


End file.
